


Phone Home

by I_Am_Your_Dentist



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:18:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Your_Dentist/pseuds/I_Am_Your_Dentist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos starts to realize something odd about Night Vale, something that has nothing to do with its strange citizens and abnormal phenomena. Or at least, not entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phone Home

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from Tumblr

It was over a year into his residence in Night Vale, just after the awkward and flustered beginnings of his relationship with its infamous Voice, that Carlos began to notice something strange.

Well, everything was strange in Night Vale, that he had come to begrudgingly accept, though his scientist’s brain still yearned to form hypotheses on why some residents had two heads and why the clocks didn’t work correctly. But this strange thing was, in and of itself, not too terribly strange, though it hit him all at once like a punch to the gut.

He hadn’t contacted any of his family, not even his mother whom he was incredibly close with, since he came here.

Carlos tried to pass it off that he was busy, that he just didn’t think about it because there was so much of the town to explore, he’d gotten caught up in his work like his mother always scolded him not to.

But therein lay the problem: why hadn’t she called him? Why hadn’t his phone been ringing off the hook, her smooth Latina voice waiting to give him an earful about not calling, not writing, not anything?

The thought of why she hadn’t contacted him made him feel ill.

He left his lab table, beakers full of some strange goo that made fingernails grow miles long forgotten on the cool metal surface. He plucked his phone from his pocket, hands shaking as he frantically dialed her number. Someone would have contacted him if something had happened, right? His brother, his sisters, his uncle, someone would have phoned him. That didn’t stop the shaking in his hands or the blurring in his eyes as he dialed.

He was about to press the final number when suddenly a loud, blaring horn sounded nearby and he was being accosted by men in uniforms worn by the Sheriff’s Secret Police.

“Wha-?” His phone was yanked out of his hand. “Hey! Give that back!”

But they didn’t listen, tossing the fragile piece of machinery aside as they dragged him away. His coworkers looked on with worried expressions, but did nothing to stop them. They knew it was futile to fight against the Secret Police.

He was thrown into the back of a black van, nothing to secure him as he rolled around the painful, metal surface. He’d heard of this before, from Cecil and some of the townsfolk. Reeducation. He’d done something. But what? Was it that fungus he’d managed to politely coerce into leaving his shower? Was it one of his many experiments they didn’t want him to finish?

Thoughts of his mother were wiped from his mind in the wake of this terrifying development. What was going to happen to him?

\--

He wasn’t sure how long he was in the reeducation facility. Days? Weeks? He didn’t want to consider the possibility of anything longer. But he knew he was out, not because he could see it, but because he could feel long, spidery fingers stroking so gently through his hair, almost reverently. Instinctively, he knew it was Cecil.

“Where am I?” he asked in a raspy voice, not wanting to open his eyes, just in case it was a dream, or wasn’t Cecil.

“My apartment.” Cecil’s voice was gentle and soothing. It made him feel safe, and Carlos instinctively cuddled closer. He couldn’t remember anything about his time being gone, only that he didn’t want to go back.

“I don’t know why they took me. I...I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Of course not, my perfect Carlos.” Was it his imagination, or did Cecil’s voice sound a touch condescending. “Rest now.”

Something was wrong. Carlos wanted to deny that and drift off to sleep, the gentle tug of unconsciousness so tempting, the warm and sleepy feeling dragging him down. But he was nothing if not a man of science, and he resisted, opening his eyes to stare up defiantly into Cecil’s.

“Why did they take me away?”

Cecil looked uncomfortable, glancing away, though his hand never stopped stroking Carlos’ hair. He wondered if the radio host even realized he was doing it.

“Reeducation...sometimes comes without warning. We don’t always know the reason.”

“They came as I was trying to call my mother.” That’s right, he was going to call her, because he was scared something had happened to her. “Why can’t I contact my family, Cecil? Why haven’t any of them contacted me?”

Cecil bit his lip, looking around nervously. Of course, there were cameras and microphones everywhere. But maybe it was more of a habit than anything.

“Carlos,” he said with a shaky sigh. “What does your mother look like?”

“Wha-?” Carlos frowned. “What does that have to do with anything? She...” He stopped suddenly, frowning. He couldn’t quite picture her, couldn’t remember what color her eyes and hair were...he couldn’t even remember her voice beyond vague descriptors.

“And the rest of your family?” Cecil prompted, when Carlos didn’t answer.

“I...I have...a brother,” he said shakily. “And...sisters...”

“How many sisters?”

“I...” Why couldn’t he remember? “I don’t know. Cecil...why can’t I remember them?”

Cecil sighed. “Do you remember what you were doing, right before you came here? To Night Vale, I mean.” The other many was usually so lighthearted, it was alarming to hear such a serious tone in his voice.

Carlos took a deep breath and closed his eye, trying to remember. It was like trying to see through a thick fog. All so blurry and grey.

“I remember...” he began shakily. “I remember...a lab. And some...other people. I can’t...can’t remember their names, but I remember laughing...”

“That’s it, Carlos. Just take your time.” Cecil’s cool hand was on his cheek, and he didn’t realize before how warm he was. He leaned into that touch like a thirsty man at an oasis, and his mind felt a little clearer for it.

“There’s something on the table. Some kind of beaker. I’m working on it.” A small frown creased his forehead as the liquid in the beaker began to rapidly expand and then...

His eyes shot wide open. “I...whatever was in there...exploded.” But there had to be something else, right? Was he in the hospital? Did he get burned? How did he get transferred to Night Vale if he was injured? How did he get transferred to Night Vale at all? He didn’t remember anyone telling him to come here, he had just...appeared here...

Carlos stared up at Cecil with wide, scared eyes. He wanted to deny it, but his mind was already putting the pieces together, and Cecil’s patient yet pitying look was all he needed to draw his conclusion.

“I’m dead.”

The words were dropped with a whisper, as if fearful of the truth, or perhaps the Secret Police even now listening in. But they didn’t burst in to take him again, and for that he was grateful. He barely registered Cecil wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him close.

“In that world, you are,” he whispered, his fingers moving once again through his thick brown hair. “I’m so sorry, Carlos. So sorry I didn’t tell you.” He cleared his throat suddenly, and in a louder voice said, “That’s ridiculous. If you were dead, how could you be here right now? Come now, what a silly thing to say.”

Cecil nudged him gently, prompting Carlos to respond with, “R-right. Silly.” And then a humorless laugh. He felt as if he were floating outside of his own body. Nothing felt real anymore. “I want to...sleep, I think. I’m tired.” Cecil mercifully did not question it, tucking him into bed with a warm smile.

“Goodnight, my perfect Carlos,” he whispered.


End file.
